Letters To An ArchNemesis
by Phantasmagoria Pilgrim Angel
Summary: Harry and Draco are caught fighting and are punished as a consequence: to write letters to each other! But in the process, they discover more than they bargained for. Romance, action, and insults galore! (This is not SLASH!)
1. Respondez Never Sil Vous Plait As Never ...

29th December  
  
8:07pm  
  
Gryffindor Common Room  
  
Dear Mr Draco Malfoy,  
  
Let's get one thing straight. You don't like me and I don't like you. I'm only doing this because Professor McGonagall forced us to it.  
  
Ron is very pissed off, you know. With that business in the Quidditch stands. Who goes to snog in the Quidditch stands anyway? Everyone goes to the Astronomy Tower to do that. But you must know how much of a shock it was.  
  
Ron and Hermione were just accompanying me to practice Quidditch, that lunchtime. And what do we see when we get there? We see a familiar redheaded girl with her back against the wall with an equally familiar blonde, kissing as though the world depended on it.  
  
Of course you know how protective Ron and I are. I grabbed you off her while Ron started to demand an explanation from Ginny, but then you had to retaliate by throwing that punch at my stomach. But after that, you got lucky.  
  
If Hermione hadn't run into Professor McGonagall and taken her down to the Quidditch pitch, I would've beaten the stuffing out of you. If I remember correctly, we were rolling around and punching the crap out of each other, I was winning of course, when the Professor arrived. Then she gave us that huge telling-off, and then punished us to do this.  
  
Ron was absolutely furious to find his little sister being deeply, and disgustingly, pashed by the infamous, selfish, egotistical prat that is Malfoy. Hermione and I were equally shocked. Ron now forbids Ginny to go anywhere or see you. Ginny, being her usual stubborn self, bellowed to him in reply. Something about not being able to tell her what to do and being able to kiss anyone that she wants to.  
  
How long have you and Ginny been.together? Have you guys sneaked to the Quidditch stands to snog before? Ron will kill you, you know.  
  
Ron and Hermione are playing Wizard Chess. I was supposed to be the one playing against Ron, but no. I have to write these letters. Now, because I have to reply to the letters before McGonagall starts to yell, I mightn't be able to play Wizard Chess anymore, or anything else fun for that matter.  
  
Well, I can't really say RNSVP ANAP otherwise we'll both be in deeper trouble than we are now, not that I would mind.  
  
1 Hugs and Kisses  
  
Harry Potter  
  
(P.S.- RNSVP ANAP means Respondez Never Sil Vous Plait As Never As Possible.) 


	2. O Almighty Pothead

31 December 1995

Slytherin Dormitory

9:34 PM

Dear Mister Hairy Pothead, 

_Infamous, selfish, egotistical prat?_ _Respondez Never Sil Vous Plait As Never As Possible_? I must say that you have taken the meaning of 'lame' to new and glorious heights, Potter. Even Weasel couldn't have thought of that one, and that's saying something. 

Who does that old crone McGonagall think she is, anyway, making us write letters? Effing things up, as usual. Professor Snape wouldn't have bothered with riff-raff like that; he'd have sent you straight to detention. Instead I have to bother with this crap, I'd much rather practise Quidditch on my brand new_ Nimbus 2002._

It's a Christmas present bought for me by my father, and I'd bet ten galleons that it'd kick your stupid Firebolt's arse any day. Except you haven't got a father, or the ten galleons … oh, hang on: _Triwizard Tournament prize money. _You're stinking rich now, aren't you? Looks like Weasel's gonna be up to his ears in debt, borrowing money from you, and brains from Mudblood. You've got the late Diggory to thank for this … but we can't go on about that, can we? Poor little ickie wickie Harriekins will be bawling his eyes out about his late friend, sniff sniff.  

Your recount of what happened at the Quidditch stands that other day was utter and complete bull. Does that black eye still hurt? What about that bloody nose? Mudblood probably wouldn't be so interested in you now that your face is mutilated. Though I wouldn't blame her, not wasting her time on _you. _But then Granger isn't really that much of a catch, is she? Stupid _slut_, running around sleeping with 'famous' wizards. There's the world-famous Victor Krum, there's the _oh-so-brave _Harry Potter. Put them together and what do you have? _Shag-o-rama_.  

Speaking of ladies, you will be quite pleased to know that Ginny and I are very, _very _deeply in love. Neither pathetic brother nor jealous dickhead of a friend is gonna change that. And thanks for the tip on the Astronomy Tower; Ginny and I'll make a point of using it for our next romantic exploit. Just hope we don't see you and Mudblood there … what a way to lose your lunch. 

May I add that Ginny is soooooo very fine? I have her eating out of the palm of my hand, and somewhere else as well … Try and change _anything_ about our relationship, Potter, and I swear you won't have any whole body parts to finish with. And Mudblood really _wouldn't _like that now, would she? So don't bore me with any more of your stupid conquests. What's it gonna be this time? Harry Potter and the Redemption of Ginny?

I won't waste my _Luxury Peacock Feather Quill_ on this stupid letter any more. Somebody cut that old McGonagall's throat for me. And please don't use _Hugs and Kisses, _Potter; I think I've had enough puking for one day. 

O Almighty Pothead, my great omnipathetic Lord. I bow before thee, for thou art the pure image of stupidity. May thy inflated head continue to make its glorious ascent to the heavens above.  

Your humblest servant,

Draco Malfoy.

P.S. You can neither spell nor use punctuation, or grammar properly. If you want to insult me in your next letter, at least do it correctly. 

^^^^^^^^

Note: Draco doesn't know about Harry's already-existent fortune before he received the TT prize money. And _Harry Potter and the Redemption of Ginny _was influenced by David and Leigh Eddings' excellent novel _The Redemption of Althalus. _Both Pilgrim Angel and I have read it, and we think it's kick arse stuff! __


	3. Dobber

A/N- Yes, yes. I have finally managed to complete the third letter. Yes, Ena (Angel Cuz, Dim Sim, Xiana Potter) it is finished. Well…here it is! Oh and this is supposed to say 2 January not 12.  
  
1 2 January  
  
2:20 p.m.  
  
Quidditch Stands  
  
Dear Draino Malfunction,  
  
You're very lucky that McGonagall doesn't read the letters, just accounts for them. For all you know I could've shown your letter to her and you would've been in major trouble. Insulting Cedric's memory and offending McGonagall and my friends. Fortunately for your sorry arse, I'm not a dobber. Which just so happens to bring back an all-too-familiar memory…  
  
I seem to recall a particular blonde git dobbing on my friends and me in our first year, earning us detentions. That also cost you a detention as well, didn't it? Well, a taste of your own medicine. Oh and the look on your face when we saw that shadow drinking the unicorn's blood! You were scared out of your fancy, black robes, were you not?  
  
And about your Nimbus 2002, my Firebolt may be slower but I have more skill. Remember the Quidditch match in second year? You may have had Nimbus 2001s but we still won. And on the subject of Quidditch; I could be training to for our game against you right now but no. I have to sit here and write this crap. But don't worry. We'll still kick Slytherin's arse.  
  
For your information, my parents left me a small fortune when I came to Hogwarts, so I didn't need the Triwizard Tournament money. Besides, the Weasleys have recently acquired a large amount of money, so they are not poor, never were poor and never will be poor. Anyway, Ron does not need brains at all.  
  
Those non-existent scratches you gave me didn't hurt a bit, but I bet the ones I gave you must kill like hell. Furthermore, Hermione and I aren't sleeping together nor is she interested in me. It is more likely for Ron and Hermione to get together because Ron cares for Hermione in a way I don't. Also, Hermione is not a slut or Mudblood and if you ever call her either ever again, Ron and I (not to mention many other students) will come and personally flatten that oh-so-perfect nose of yours. Or I could just inform the school that you posses a pair of frilly, red underwear that lurks in your closet, threatening to ruin your reputation. How did I know? Well, a certain elfish friend of mine told me.  
  
I'll leave it up to Ron to tell you to stay away from Ginny. Also, do not refer to her in that way. I showed Hermione, Ron and Ginny your letter and she is not happy but still swears her undying love for you. She also doesn't believe she is eating out of your hands (or anywhere else) but the other way around. Ugh! Ginny may swoon over you but at the present situation, Hermione vomits at the thought while Ron tries to throw himself out from atop the Gryffindor tower.  
  
Luxury Peacock Feather Quill? You actually wasted money on something that gay? It sounds like something Gilderoy Lockhart would have. You're evil, Draco Malfoy. From the first moment we met I knew you were evil.  
  
O Mighty Malfoy, my vain and humble servant. I am privileged by thy eloquent and hollow words, for thou art the ultimate example of shallow narcissism. May thy peroxide-bleached hair and vacuous head accompany thy fortunate master in his lustrous ascent to the heavens.  
  
Your wise and generous master,  
  
Harry James Potter 


	4. Malfoys Don't Cry

WARNING: We all know Draco isn't exactly famous for his politeness, but for some, this letter might be just a bit too rude for your delicate ears. If you would rather avoid it, email me at soapy_bubbles_286@hotmail.com for the BEEP! version. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Author's Note: Yeah, Quintessential Bliss has changed her name to Phantasmagoria. Naughty girl *grins*. Anyway, great work, Pilgrim! I was very impressed by that previous letter. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for our favourite little Slytherin … 

^^^^^^^^

3 January 1996

Slytherin Dormitory 

11:41 PM

To the Boy Who Effed,

That's it. That is _it_! I've had enough of your idiotic airs and your retarded "Oh, I'm Potter, the hero who defeated You-Know-Who; everybody worship my balls right now" crap. I am just about to start losing my temper and chuck expensive and breakable stuff around _RIGHT NOW. _  

What little noble piece of shit are you, hurling accusations and threats at me like the tight-arsed dickhead you are? You can bloody well take your gay little scar and shove it up someone's arse, notably Granger's. And I don't care for your bullshitting about –

4 January 1996

Quidditch Change rooms

9:16 AM

… Okay, I didn't lose my temper. I_ didn't. _Scratch whatever I wrote before, that was just the incoherent ramblings of a guy who's had too much to drink. Whatever you say, Pothead, I'm _not _going to let you piss me off (not that you succeeded, arsehole), and I am going to insult you in a calm and rational manner. I wasn't thinking straight last night; wasn't in the best of moods. Father owled about – never mind; it's none of your effing business.  

Anyway, about the frilly underwear thing … that was just a stupid gift from an ex. Are you telling me that _you _don't have anything of that sort lying around your dormitory? Say anything to _anyone, _and I'll hex your legs off. I'm going to owl Father about the lack of privacy around here, and that despicable house-elf won't have any ears left after I'm finished with it. And personally, I don't give an eff about you 'small fortune'. How did your parents earn it? Prostitution? And about that 'kicking Slytherin's arse' business: yeah, dream on, Potter. At least I didn't get chosen for the team just because I have a scar on my forehead!      

So … this is interesting; Granger's not in love with you? But how can that be? It was all over the press last year, if I remember correctly. Oooh … how sad … you were rejected. And please keep your beak out of Ginny and my business, thank you very effing much. Do you think I'm just fooling with her? I shouldn't even be telling you this, but Ginny is the only one I have right now, the only person who understands me. (Crabbe and Goyle don't exactly make best buddies.) Do you think I get it easy? 

I know what you Gryffindors say about me when we're out of earshot. "Filthy Slytherin", "All evil Death Eaters," "little twits" … you'd like that now, would you? You'd like to be shunned by all the non-Slytherins, would you? To be shut up in Malfoy Manor during the holidays trying to live up to the expectations to my old man? Why did you think I drank last night? BECAUSE MY FUCKING FATHER ORDERED ME TO GET THE DARK MARK! 

I shouldn't have said that, I think I got a bit overemotional. I'm not allowed that, you know. It's always "Malfoys don't cry when they are caned, Draco, even if they don't deserve it," and "You have to act like a man, son" and all that shit. But I don't think I'm allowed to tell that to anyone either. My whole life has been a lie.

If you show _anyone _this letter, Potter, I will kill myself. I really would. It feels so good to finally let it out, and I don't think I really care anymore. And you said I was evil. I am evil. All Malfoys are, it runs in the family, whether they like it all not. You've got it easy, Potter. I was born to serve a Dark Lord. You were born a hero. Think about it next time you laugh at me, man. Just think about it. 

Draco

^^^^^^^^

A/N: Ooh, and Draco gets emotional …


	5. Everyone Should Cry

1 A/N- Yes, yes. Quintessential Bliss has changed her name…again! Now as Phantasmagoria, QB has given you another letter from Draco, on which I think Phanto has done an excellent job. I hope my letter lives up to the expectations. And by the way, my apologies go to Xinia Potter, whose name I spelt wrong.  
  
2  
  
3 *~*~*~*~*~*  
  
3.1  
  
3.2 This chapter is dedicated to my friend Ena, for she has left my school to go to a different one. We'll miss you!  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
4  
  
5 5 January 1996  
  
Gryffindor Dormitory  
  
9:22 PM  
  
Draco  
  
Calm down, man! What kind of drugs are you on? Pot? Speed? Panadol? I thought you were that cool and collected dude who could fight off a Chinese Fireball dragon while buffing his nails. Not the hysterical, rage-driven emu that replied to my letter. And nobody has ever worshipped my balls or ever will, because all I did way 'delay' Voldemort.  
  
Do you think I get it easy? Do you think I have it easy just because I am 'Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived'? Nearly every year, I chance upon Voldemort whether I like it or not. But last time, I got someone killed! Do you know how many times I have started awake from Cedric's death? Oh, boo hoo! Let's all feel sorry for poor Draco Malfoy who is wealthy, apparently handsome and blonde! At least you have a father and mother! I have lived my entire life without my parents. Not a day goes by that I don't wonder how my life could've been if Voldemort hadn't killed my parents.  
  
But don't forget my friends! Ron has to compete with five older brothers! Not only that but two head boys, a Quidditch captain, a dragon expert, a Gringotts worker, a Ministry of Magic employee and two independent boys who delight in pranks which make their lives a living heaven. Not to mention being shunted to the sidelines when people want to goggle at my forehead as if I was wearing a neon sign saying 'Look at me!'  
  
And, Hermione doesn't have it easy either! Since second year, you Slytherins have called her 'Mudblood'. But she is an exceptional witch and her marks can tell you that! She is proud to have Muggle parentage and you made her suffer for it!  
  
But in the end, I'm not so angry. Actually, I feel sorry for you. Personally, I'd rather die than receive the Dark Mark. Also, Malfoy or not, no one should have to hide their tears. Should you feel like crying, let it out. You may think that your life is a lie, has no meaning, but think about this. You have the only daughter of the most loyal and loving family there is, very much in love with you. Now, you think about that!  
  
Harry  
  
P.S.- Leave Dobby alone!  
  
A/N- What did you think? Good? Bad? Please give me your opinions. Flames are welcome. 


	6. Dragon, Unleashed

A/N: I have failed you guys *hangs head in shame*. School, homework, tutoring and piano have finally caught up with me for the past month, and I found myself making empty promises to write up the next chapter every passing week. Never fear, though, for Pilgrim Angel and I are still jam-packed with fresh plots and ideas …

WARNING: As with the previous two chapters, some angst … 

^^^^^^^^

NB: Pothead, you'll see that this letter has been delivered without an owl. Father sent me a pack of special QuikOwls Stamps so I don't have to use my raven all the time. (Yes, laugh all you want, Potter, but Apocalypse can beat your old Hedwig any day.) I've sent some QuikOwl stamps for you to use when mailing my letters, so that your clumsy owl won't be swooping down on me all the time. These stamps are easy, you just stick them on the envelope, and they deliver the letter that same day, invisible to anyone else but the recipient. I hate having to receive your stupid mail at the Slytherin table in the morning; some Slytherins are starting to get suspicious.  

10 January 1996

Library

1:58 AM

I'm sitting here, Harry, wondering … 

How do you do it? How can you – ugly scar flashing - be so brave, so set to fight against the Dark Lord? How can you sleep soundly at night, knowing he's probably working on a new scheme to get you killed? How do you face each passing day – smiling like a dork, I may add, and stealing looks at Granger – with such a sense of serenity, constantly aware of the fact that every breath you take may be your last? How do you go about your daily tasks (somehow managing to convince the Professors you're doing an excellent job of it, you prat) without the ghosts of your murdered parents hovering over you like a shadow? Do you not go mad? Do you not look behind your shoulder fearfully with every step?

Because I know I would. I would just give up, succumb to the madness within, perhaps surrender to Voldemort to save my skin. And I hate to disappoint you, Mr Sunshine, but I'm not the kind of person to trudge through pain and ordeal, fight off obstacles with my hands tied behind my back, defeat an evil villain and save the world from submerging into darkness and fear all in one day. And no – I don't buff my own nails; I have house-elves and admiring blonde bombshells who will gladly give their right arms to do it for me. (Actually, I was just kidding, don't tell Darling Ginny what I said.) And what is Panadol? Some kind of beer Muggles like to get high on?

Anyway – back to the misery and self-degradation. You say you miss your parents – you wanna trade with my folks? When I was six months old my mother _dropped _me (literally let me fall onto the concrete) to rush to the new cosmetic shop across the street. Father taught me how to catch by lobbing a heavy piece of rock at my head. You'd like that now, wouldn't you, you bastard? And the fact is – yes; I do think you're lucky. I ENVY YOU LIKE SHIT. Five years of hatred and rage and _jealousy _have generally been summed up in that sentence. Bet you're smirking now, aren't you? "Stupid Malfoy," you're probably saying, "Stupid louse, he had it all coming …" 

I suppose there's not much point yelling and swearing at you, you'll just brush it off, simpering and pretending to show sympathy for me, just so you can show off in front of Weasel and Granger. I bet you've already shown them my previous letter, and they probably had a hearty laugh about it. And what's this crap about what Weasel and Granger are going through? Can't be as bad as me, can it? They don't have to get locked in the dungeons for five days for not having beaten you in Quidditch.

Another piece of light information: I'm getting the Dark Mark tomorrow. Father has it all arranged. Frankly, I can't see a way out of it. Except … you know what you said, how you'd rather die than receive the Dark Mark? That takes guts to say, man, that seriously takes guts. The main thing I envy, and my very first and definitely last compliment for you - _You fight the darkness within you, and you do it so well. _Me: not so lucky. I guess at the end of the day, when it comes down to it – you'll always be the hero.

I'm liberated now, thanks to you. My mind is clear, composed, I'm set on what I'm going to do. I'm going to order Crabbe and Goyle around one last time, put away all my Playwizard magazines, sniff the fragrance of the grass, look up at the cloudless sky, ladaladala …and they are not going to put the Dark Mark on me. I will escape … I will take one last lingering look at Ginny, then climb the highest tower … and then I will be unleashed. I will be _free._

Hoping I won't see you anytime soon … goodbye, Harry Potter. 

Draco Malfoy.

P.S. In case I don't get to do so first, tell Ginny I love her very much. Tell her I was going to get down on my knees and propose with a ten-carat diamond ring, get her married, whisk her off to an exotic island, and have heaps of cute little blonde kids. Tell her I didn't mean things to turn out the way they did, that I'm sorry it was all too late. Tell her that as I fly I will sing out her name …

^^^^^^^^

A/N: Hurry up, Harry, damn it!

 


	7. Draco's Rescue

A/N- Sorry that this is so late! * ducks flying copy of GoF * I know this is very short and very bad. I needed something short and quick. I know everyone hates it but I hope the next letter will please you.

10 January 1996

Gryffindor Dormitory

2:07 PM

Draco, are you okay? Oh my God, where are you? You scared the hell outta me in your last letter. You almost sounded suicidal. Free? What do you mean 'free'? And as much as I hate saying this, you are going to see Ginny again before … what? Draco, what's going on? Please don't go and do anything stupid. Draco? Draco!

~*~

10 January 1996

Gryffindor Common Room

2:08 PM

Draco, you stupid git,

What the hell did you think you were doing? You scared the hell out of Ginny and me! Do you know how bloody hard it was to find you?

~*~

__

Harry bolted to his feet. He had just made the inevitable decision to find Draco and bollocks to anything that stood in his way.

"But you'll never find him!" Ron cried out in protest, "there are too many towers!"

"And there's a snow storm running its course out there!" exclaimed a deeply concerned Hermione. "You'd be crazy to risk it."

Harry paused in his pacing, undecided.

"Harry." He turned and faced Ginny Weasley; her chestnut eyes full of such grief and desperation that all traces of hesitation in his mind dissolved in an instant.

"Please Harry," she pleaded, small drops starting to accumulate at the corner of her eyes, "Please go find Draco. Just find him."

"But what about the snow storm?" Ron reminded them pointing towards one of the windows of the Gryffindor Common room. Outside, wind and snow were raging a merciless battle in the dark of the winter night.

"Accio_ Firebolt!" Harry called, ignoring Ron's comment._

Harry's broomstick hurtled down from his dormitory and straight into his outstretched hand. Making sure his winter cloak was securely fastened; he walked to one of the windows, opened it and mounted his Firebolt. Harry took a lingering look at his friends before diving into the dark oblivion, leaving Ron and Hermione staring wide-eyed after him.

"Please Harry, be careful." A ghostly whisper of Ginny's voice reached Harry's ears as he furthered the distance from Gryffindor Tower.

~*~

It was freezing outside! I felt like I was trying to fly through a giant ice machine, spitting ice shavings as far as the eye can see. And the winds must have been steroid-fed gales!

~*~

__

Harry wiped snow from his face, numb with cold. He circled Hogwarts Castle with an urgency that sent his heart ramming against his ribs. 

Please … let me be on time. I'll never forgive myself if I was too late … The highest tower … come on, the highest tower…

__

Harry scanned the lofty towers of Hogwarts Castle, wind whipping his dark hair and robes, an icy chill stinging his eyes.

And then he saw Draco.

~*~

You should've seen yourself. If you weren't about to commit suicide, I would've thought that you were about to fly without a broomstick. You haven't changed; you're still so dramatic. Why didn't you just drink poison to save me the trouble?

~*~

__

Draco looked like he always did, apart from the fact that he was standing on the edge of a very high tower. Draco's pale face and hair contrasted with his black clothes and shoes, which stood out against the pure white snow.

"Malfoy, no_!" Harry yelled as he landed on the tower's roof, "You don't know what you're doing!"_

Draco observed Harry with an amused expression. He seemed oddly calm.

"Chill, Potter," Draco punned as the wind and rain slowly died, the usual touch of hostility missing from his voice. "Just leave me alone, okay? Do me a favour, for once in your life, and shut up_." He pronounced the last two words with a touch of resignation. Draco looked like a vampire, all touches of colour were absent from his face._

"Malfoy," Harry expressed, taking a step forward. He dropped his broomstick and extracted his wand. "Make one more move and I'll – I'll CURSE you!" He couldn't let Draco do it, he couldn't allow him plunge off the tower into the dark void of death.

Draco laughed hollowly.

"Curse me, Potter?" he asked, an eyebrow raised, "Oh, I'm so_ AFRAID!" Draco mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm._

"I mean it!" Harry threatened, "I'll – I'll do Imperio_!"_

Harry could tell from the look in the other boy's eyes; Draco knew he meant what he said.

"Fine," Draco announced slowly, "Time for plan B." From inside his robes, Draco pulled out a small green vial, unstoppered it and made to swallow.

"NO!"

Harry closed the distance between the boy and himself and, without thinking, threw a quick but hard punch at Draco's face. Draco dropped the vial in shock, spilling the gooey mixture onto the soft snow as stepped back from the force of the punch. 

Unfortunately, the punch was too successful. Draco stumbled back from the impact, only to tumble off the edge of the tower. Harry only had a thousandth of a second to grasp what had happened.

"Oh, SHIT!" he muttered as he fell onto his stomach and reached over the edge. He managed to grab Draco's hand, leaving him dangling from the edge of the tower. Draco made no sign of resistance as he looked up at the person who had just saved his life. Green eyes met grey, unable to penetrate the glassy surface of each other. "Lemme go, Potter," Draco said quietly, as he only wanted to go to a party.

"I can't," Harry replied, his voice strained from having Draco's dead weight on him. "I promised Ginny and I promised myself. I just can't."

Draco gritted his teeth in near frustration. "I said: Let. Me. Go."

"I won't!" Harry couldn't give in. Draco's life wouldn't be the only one shattered should he fall…

"Fine," Draco sighed, twisting his hand out of Harry's grasp.

Harry's mind screamed out in panic as he felt his hand empty. He summoned his Firebolt, rolled off the tower and mounted his broom in one simultaneous motion, then pointed his Firebolt vertically towards the ground and descended almost instantaneously. The wind lashed at Harry's face as he neared Draco at lightning speed, just like in a Wronski Feint. He had to meet Draco before the steadily approaching snow-covered ground did.

~*~

Talking about dramatic exits. You almost gave me a heart attack. That 'Plan B' was so old fashioned it must be fossilised!

~*~

__

Harry soon overtook Draco's falling body. Unsure if it would work, he prepared to pull up. Ten feet from the ground, Harry steered the Firebolt up and under the other boy.

"Ooof!" Draco rammed into the tail of the broom (he didn't break it, _luckily!) and nearly hitting Harry who was trying to manage the broom. Unsettled by Draco's impact, Harry lost control, and they fell the remaining five feet._

Harry and Draco rolled down a small bank, occasionally striking outcrops of rock, leaving imprints of their journey down. They finally stopped in a tangle of limbs, clothes and broomstick.

"Ugh," both boys groaned as they untangled themselves, gasping with exhaustion.

"Dammit Potter," Draco complained as he brushed snow off his arms, "Why do you have to ruin everything?" He sat up with some difficulty and glared at the weary Harry, before collapsing face first into the snow in a dead faint.

~*~

Did you know that you nearly broke my Firebolt? And I should've won an award for that awesome dive. Anyway, what were you thinking? How could you do that? Are you out of you mind? I really should tell Dumbledore.

From

Harry

A/N- I hope that this made up for the last letter. Its just it had to be short * bursts out crying * This was a huge joint effort and we hope you like it.


	8. Random Babblings From A Bedridden Blond

A/N: Sorry about the delay in this. My internet connection fucked up. (Pardon my language, oh pretty please). I hope everyone understood what happened in the previous chapter. Just to clear things up, the disk PA lost, we found it again, so what you read in the last chapter was the original one. We decided to put it in together with the very short letter Harry sent, just in case ff.net gets pissed off at that post for being too short. Both of us worked out the big action-scene part, 'cause we couldn't bear to just mention it in a letter and leave it at that. I know it wasn't particularly funny (everyone expected insults, didn't they?), but you have to realise that Draco and Harry can't throw witty insults at each other for the rest of their lives. It's all gonna finish sometime, though whether this fanfic ends up with the both of them still alive yet remains to be seen …

**^^^^^^^^**

14 January

Hospital Wing

4:02 PM

_Well,_ Mister Four-Eyed Geek of a Bastard, (alright, Potter, I admit that was lame, but I'm in pain right now, you can't expect me to come up with the usual witty and sophisticated insult.)

What am I supposed to do now? I'm stuck in a hospital bad, with that Pomfrey bitch coming to check on me every two seconds. God, that woman doesn't understand the meaning of privacy. And that puke stuff she makes me drink … how come you didn't end up all battered like me? Figures, doesn't it, that the hero is never hurt? 

Well, before I go on, I shall answer the whole bunch of questions you threw at me in your previous letter. 

Question 1. :"Did you know that you nearly broke my Firebolt?" Answer: Yes, I do know. It was all intentional. I staged this whole crazy suicide thing just for the purpose of breaking your lousy broom. I'm that sad. (I'm being sarcastic.) Right. Well, I didn't break it, okay, so CHILL!

Question 2: "And I should've won an award for that awesome dive. Anyway, what were you thinking?" Answer: Umm … how about: "Stupid fucking Potter, you just stole my "dramatic exit" and I HATE YOU FOR IT!" Oh, and I don't give a damn about your fancy dive, talk about showing off!

Question 3: "How could you do that?" Answer: I can and I will. In the history of Malfoys, no one has ever stopped us from doing or getting what we want. NO ONE. Ha, I might kill myself again, just so to rub it in your face.

Question 4: "Are you out of you mind? I really should tell Dumbledore." Answer: Yes, I _am _out of my mind. Madness runs in our family, you see, along with wealth, looks, charm, and sexual appeal.And if you tell Dumbledore then _I _shall tell him about you running off to rescue me in the middle of a storm without telling the professors. Call me an ungrateful git if you want, but that's the way it works.

Now that we've got the housekeeping over and done with, can I mentioned the fact that I am extremely _bloody EFFING _pissed off at you, you _stoopid _idiot? Why did you have to come and ruin every bloody thing? Trying to play the hero again or something? Well, you can just go stuff that shit up your arse. And that Draught of Death potion took ages to prepare too - even for a top-grade potions student like me, it was a bit too much. And I thought you hated me … I thought Gryffindor would throw a party the moment they hear of my death.

Ugh … head hurts. Vision becoming blurry. I think the psycho fit is coming up again …

So what was the point of that incredible dumb act of bravery anyway? To show off your flying skills (or lack of)? To impress Granger? Why did you even fricking bother? Well, either way, I guess it sort of worked, didn't it? Concussion, broken ribs, and a bad case of frostbite has caused Father to push back the date of my Initialling. I have two more weeks. Wonderful. Hurrah. Let me rejoice. I am overjoyed yippy yeah ay. 

(In case you're incredibly thick and still haven't got it: Step 1: Open the bottle; Step 2: Apply a liberal amount of sarcasm.)

There you go. Your hero bullshit has accounted to nothing. I'm still going to get my Dark Mark, and now I have two more happy weeks to contemplate my cheerful fate, thanks to you. Well, I suppose I'm going to have fun wrecking evil and havoc on the world, living up to my Big Bad Evil Death Eater role. I swear Granger will be the first to go … Hogwarts will be burned down to ashes … you yourself will be cursed straight into hell, where you will burn and be tortured with the fact that this could all have been avoided had you not stuck your fucking meddlesome beak in … Yippy yeah ay. Yippy yappy hippy yay …

6: 18 PM

Okay, rant over. Turns out you pissed me off so badly I fainted. (Fainted? WTF? MALFOYS DON'T FAINT!) Pomfrey chucked an absolute spasm. Gave me a long lecture about letting my rage and frustration run wild … that happens sometimes. One moment I'm sane (or as sane as I can get, anyway), the next – BOOM. Maybe I have Split Personality Disorder or whatever. Anyway, being bedridden is really pissing me off. It's bloody boring the pants off me. Even Ginny hasn't been coming. Is she angry at me or something? Tell my baby I'm going to be fine, and could she please come and visit me? Fricking hell, I miss her.

Well, that Pomfrey is coming to nag at me about resting again. It's a wonder patients here recover at all – her blabbing must drive them absolutely _crazy._ Mmm … though the chocolates aren't all bad …

Signed,

A munching yet still terribly pissed off Draco.

P.S. I think I _do _have Split Personality Disorder. 

**^^^^^^^^**

A/N: Yes, I think he does. *Evil chuckle*


	9. Don't Surrender To The Demon Spawn!

AN - And we're back! * ducks rotten tomatoes* Yes, I know this is really really late. Here's a formal apology: I, Pilgrim Angel, sincerely apologise for posting Letters To An Arch-Nemesis - Chapter Nine up so very late. For those who recognise some of the lines, the sources are at the bottom. And now on with the show!  
  
15 January Gryffindor Common Room 10:14 AM  
  
Malfoy,  
  
Just shut up and chill, man. You don't want to have another spaz attack. If you hate the Hospital Wing so much then think about it this way: the less fits you have, the less time you'll have to stay there. Normal blood pressure = no fits = no Hospital Wing.  
  
Okay, now one step at a time.  
  
I don't know why I didn't end up as battered as you did. Dumb luck I suppose. Well, if I remember correctly, you went rolling down before me. Maybe you received the brunt of all the rocks and sticks and branches.  
  
Yes, I know there is a chance of you trying to kill yourself again but right now you're as weak as a kitten. Right now, you couldn't go three rounds with a fruit fly.  
  
Do you really think us Gryffindors hate you so much that we would end your life given the chance? Sure, all Gryffindors (I guess that excludes Ginny) hate you with the fire of a thousand suns but they couldn't kill you.  
  
Also, for the hundredth time: HERMIONE IS RON'S GIRL. I have no romantic interest in her.  
  
And what's with the Malfoys don't faint? Malfoys don't faint; Malfoys don't cry...what else don't you do? Or should I ask what do you do? I must say though, these Quik Owl stamps are pretty cool. They'd be perfect for terrorist; a letter bomb would fly right past security and BOOM! They'd also be useful for Valentine's Day.  
  
Now, let me take this chance to tell you that you are hopelessly melodramatic. As you said in one of your previous letters: "How do you face each passing day with such a sense of serenity, constantly aware of the fact that every breath you take may be your last? How do you go about your daily tasks without the ghosts of your murdered parents hovering over you like a shadow? Do you not go mad? Do you not look behind your shoulder fearfully with every step?" Sense of serenity? Daily tasks? Do I not go mad? Do I not look behind my shoulder fearfully with every step? I half expected you to start quoting MacBeth or something.  
  
And Malfoy...1) No I don't think that you deserved to be dropped on the cement at six months old, 2) No I don't think that you deserved to learn how to catch by having your father lob a rock at your head and 3) No I don't think you're a louse, a caterpillar maybe but not a louse.  
  
Don't want to get the Dark Mark? Then do something, you clod! And don't just sit there complaining, think of something clever to get your way out! Aren't Slytherins meant to be cunningly sly at concocting Evil Plans? Right now I'm tearing my hair out in frustration; I don't want you as a Death Eater too, and not just purely for self-preservation reasons (though I have no doubt you meant what you said in your last letter about getting revenge on us all with your super demonic powers). Think up a plan FAST! Right now I'm absolutely mindbogged. If all else fails I HAVE to go and confide in Dumbledore, and you don't want that to happen, do you? Stage a fake death, create a clone to get it for you, put arsenic in your father's tea, God, even paint the Dark Mark on your arm and then stab Voldemort in the back when he's not looking!  
  
But to surrender to that piece of demon spawn is giving up. And do you know what giving up makes you? Weak. Think you aren't? But you are! You're weak. Well, guess what? Everybody is. Everybody fails, but you have to fight. If you think it's too hard and you give in, then all you will have been is weak. Do you want to know what strong is? Strong is fighting! Fighting is staying alive to do good and staying true to what's right. It's hard and it's painful, and it's everyday. It's what we have to do. But if you're too much of a coward for that then go ahead, give up. If even your dear Ginny can't convince you to fight against this evil, then I don't know what can. But do not expect Ginny, me or anyone else to watch you live your life as a coward.  
  
I'm going to finish up this letter before I myself have a fit.  
  
Harry J. Potter  
  
AN - Housekeeping time!  
  
"Right now, you couldn't go three rounds with a fruit fly." Yes, that's right. It's from Buffy: The Vampire Slayer. I believe it is Season Two Episode 21: Becoming Part 1.  
  
And the really long paragraph has bits and pieces from I think it is Season 3 Episode 10: Amends. For those who are a bit curious, I'll include the part in that episode.  
  
Amends  
  
Angel: I bet half the kids down there are already awake. Lying in their beds... sneaking downstairs... waiting for day.  
  
Buffy: Angel, please. I need for you to get inside. Th-there's only a few minutes left.  
  
Angel: I know. I can smell the sunrise long before it comes.  
  
Buffy: I don't have time to explain this. You just have to trust me. That thing that was haunting you...  
  
Angel: It wasn't haunting me. It was showing me.  
  
Buffy: Showing you?  
  
Angel: What I am.  
  
Buffy: Were.  
  
Angel: And ever shall be. I wanted to know why I was back. Now I do.  
  
Buffy: You don't know. Some great evil takes credit for bringing you back and you buy it? You just give up?  
  
Angel: I can't do it again, Buffy. I can't become a killer.  
  
Buffy: Then fight it.  
  
Angel: It's too hard.  
  
Buffy: Angel, please, you have to get inside.  
  
Angel: It told me to kill you. You were in the dream. You know. It told me to lose my soul in you and become a monster again.  
  
Buffy: I know what it told you. What does it matter?  
  
Angel: Because I wanted to! Because I want you so badly! I want to take comfort in you, and I know it'll cost me my soul, and a part of me doesn't care. Look, I'm weak. I've never been anything else. It's not the demon in me that needs killing, Buffy. It's the man.  
  
Buffy: You're weak. Everybody is. Everybody fails. Maybe this evil did bring you back, but if it did, it's because it needs you. And that means that you can hurt it. Angel, you have the power to do real good, to make amends. But if you die now, then all that you ever were was a monster. Angel, please, the sun is coming up!  
  
Angel: Just go.  
  
Buffy: I won't!  
  
Angel: What, do you think this is simple? You think there's an easy answer? You can never understand what I've done! Now go!  
  
Buffy: You are not staying here. I won't let you!  
  
Angel: I said LEAVE!  
  
Accidentally hits Buffy to the ground.  
  
Angel: Oh, my God...  
  
Buffy: No! No!  
  
Angel: Am I a thing worth saving, huh? Am I a righteous man? The world wants me gone!  
  
Buffy: What about me? I love you so much... And I tried to make you go away... I killed you and it didn't help and I hate it! I hate that it's so hard... and that you can hurt me so much. I know everything that you did, because you did it to me. Oh, God! I wish that I wished you dead. I don't. I can't.  
  
Angel: Buffy, please. Just this once... let me be strong.  
  
Buffy: Strong is fighting! It's hard, and it's painful, and it's every day. It's what we have to do. And we can do it together. But if you're too much of a coward for that, then burn. If I can't convince you that you belong in this world, then I don't know what can. But do not expect me to watch. And don't expect me to mourn for you, because... And it starts to snow!!!  
  
Hope you like this chapter, people! 


	10. List Of Arch Enemies Whom I Want to Dise...

A/N: I debated whether to go for the "Longest Time An Author Leaves Story In Hiatus" record, or to just give the Commerce assignment the finger. I guess I gave the Commerce assignment the finger ^_^ 

By the way, yay! We've reached the Hundredth Review Milestone! *Takes out hanky* I'm – just – so – proud …

^^^^^^^^

18th January 1996

Slytherin Dormitory

3:34 PM

Hey, 

Just been released from Hospital Wing and am feeling like shit. Personally I have a few bones to pick with you. "What else don't Malfoys do?" you asked last letter, and I promptly reply:

1) Malfoys don't do karaoke. Period.

2) Malfoys don't dress up in chicken suits on Tuesdays.

3) Malfoys don't talk with their mouth full. 

4) Malfoys don't lie, except when they want to hurt someone's feelings, except to someone they don't give two knuts about, and except when they feel like it. 

5) Malfoys don't pretend to be above everyone else in status and power, they _know _they are.

6) Malfoys don't mince their words, and on _no account _do they employ the usage of euphemisms.

7) Malfoys don't write senseless fanfiction.

8) Malfoys don't use contraception. 

Some old ancestor set those rules generations ago. Off the top of my head these are the ones I remember, though I'm not too sure about the contraception one. Guess which rule I broke in a sudden bout of temptation.  

Anyway, apart from the above you also said "I half expected you to start quoting Macbeth or something", offered me some foul-proof ideas to fool Father and the Dark Lord as if they were THREE YEAR-OLDS, questioned my sanity, accused me of being melodramatic, labelled me a caterpillar, and in general suggested I was a coward. All I can do, in retaliation, is make rude signs at you behind your back and say … 

"Is that a dagger I see before me?"

Aha! See? I _am _quoting Macbeth. An irrelevant quote, but a quote nevertheless. I found an old dog-eared copy in Father's library years ago, and I must say I'm not very impressed with Shakespeare's depiction of the three witches. According to him all witches spend their time making sinister prophecies, or sitting around a cauldron brewing up evil potions while chanting stupid stuff like "Double, double, toil and trouble". That Macbeth is really something, though. I mean, this guy had ambition. He knew what he wanted, and he went for it. Sure, in the end he got his head skewered, but that's beside the point. For a few tiny moments he was living his dream, and that's what counts, right?

You know, yesterday I was rifling through the letters you sent me – no, I wasn't thinking of burning them – and I noticed something VERY scary. It happened fleetingly, only for a few times, but its nasty presence was still blatantly obvious –

We reverted to first names.

Yes, gawp and stutter all you want, but for one letter I actually addressed you as _Harry, _not the usual Potter or Pothead or other such cute epithets, but _Harry. _And you, twice at least, addressed me as _Draco, _not Draino, nor Crazy Suicidal Idiotic Bastard, but _Draco. _

And I ask myself - sane, sensible person that I am - how in bloody hell did that happen? When did we go from Top-Rate Insult-Hurtling Arch Nemeses into bloody Blood Brothers? Why did we stop lacing our words with venomous insults and started to write about real, straightforward, honest things? Why did I actually throw away that pretentious Slytherin outer shell and started to reveal my heart, bit by painful bit, to YOU, of all people?

I guess, because unlike the others, you listened. 

Sure, I still hate you with every ounce of my strength, you're still so cocky and assured and _so damn_ _optimistic _and painfully self-sacrificial to the point of stupidity, but at least you're honest. You're Harry Fucking Potter through and through, one hundred percent pure, right to the bone. No added frills. 

And you've got balls. Remember that very first day of school, on the Hogwarts Express, when I offered you my hand in friendship? _You,_ in all your silly Gryffindor righteousness, instead of allying yourself with the richest and most influential wizard in the school, chose to stand by a nondescript boy of the poorest and most disgraceful variety. You looked me straight back in the eye and replied evenly "_I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself_." In that single sentence you made clear to me exactly what you thought of me, and I hated you for it. 

But what I'm _struggling _to say is, how _can _you be so strong? _Fighting is staying alive to do good and staying true to what's right, _you say. You tell me that surrendering to that piece of "demon spawn" would be giving up, and that this would make me weak. You tell me to pull myself back together and to start fighting. To fight what? To fight my father, who's had me clutched in his iron fist since the day I was born? To fight the rigid stereotype in society that all Slytherins are henchmen of the Dark Lord and love to wreak evil and havoc on the world on a regular basis? To fight this inner impulse within me to just go along with every single expectation ever ladled on me by my parents? To fight what surely must be my eventual destiny as a Death Eater? To fight that little voice inside my head that says _you can do this, you can stand by what you believe to be right?_

I can't. I can't do this. I can't do this all by myself.

Then when it had seemed that all my hopes were frayed and death seemed the only way out, you had to butt in and save my life. Standing on the highest tower of the castle with the icy wind flaying at my cheeks, staring down into the dark abyss below, I'd never felt so lost, so disoriented, so devoid of purpose to carry on. But then, waking up in the hospital wing with the most pungent sense of loathing for you was, ironically, what spurred me on. That nauseating warmth I felt at the pit of my stomach told me that my duty was to go on living, and to go on regarding you as number one on my List Of Arch Enemies Whom I Want to Disembowel and Send Into the Deep Depths of Hell to Burn Their Arses Off. 

And do you realise that I've just added the Dark Lord and Father to my list?

There, I've got everything off my chest, and despite the tedious, roundabout method that was employed, I'm sure you get my drift. I don't have to make myself clearer. You're in this now, Harry Fucking Hero Potter, whether you like it or not. And because 9) Malfoys don't form friendships; they form alliances that last for life, you can't back out of this. We're allies now, and the consequence of this is that it'd annoy me for just about two minutes if I heard that you'd died a very tragic and painful death. Well, if you ever tell Dumbledore (or anyone else) before the 28th about this I shall be forced to have that two minutes of discomfort. On _your _discomfort I shall not dwell. 

This alliance doesn't mean I don't hate you as much as I used to, though. It just means that I've realised, as much as I don't like to admit it, that every word you said in your previous letter is true.

I might not be able to change my past and what I've become, but I may be able to change my principles, stand by what I believe is right, and ultimately shape my own destiny.

Reply soon,

Draco Malfoy

P.S. I've marked the 28th on my calendar with extra dark ink. Ten days, and ten days left for us to concoct cunningly sly Evil Plans, as you said.

^^^^^^^^

A/N: I hope that wasn't too heavy on the angst. Rest assured, loyal readers, for pretty soon we'll find ourselves near the climax and right in the thick of kick-arse action. I want to beg a favour of you all: constructive criticism! PA and I would really appreciate it if you could just take the time in your review to mention _one _thing that's bad/good with this story. Imaginary chocolate cake will be dealt out to all!  

Disclaimer: We don't own the characters, we don't own Hogwarts, all we own is the plot and the QuikOwl stamps. 

The lines "… consequence of this is that it'd annoy me for just about two minutes if I heard that you'd died a very tragic and painful death … On _your _discomfort I shall not dwell" is based loosely on a paragraph from a seriously hilarious but weird book, _The Man Who Was Thursday _by GK Chesterton. A minefield of witty one-liners, I assure you.


	11. Dawning Realisations

A/N - Better late than never, huh? After much deliberation I have decided I want to initiate a mailing list for Letters. If you want to be on it, please send an email to me (pilgrimangel@hotmail.com) with the subject as Letters Mailing List.  
  
16th January 1996  
  
Gryffindor Dormitory  
  
1:35pm  
  
Malfoy,  
  
Good on you. You've finally decided to abide by the universal law that says Harry Potter tells the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. By the way, Malfoys don't dress up in chicken suits on Tuesdays? Is it possible for a Malfoy to be dressed up as a chicken on any other day? Who knew?  
  
I realize that we have reverted to a first name basis but I did not, at any time, 'gawp and stutter' nor do I know how that happened. All I know is that I have, am and will always listen to what you need or want to say. I will also try (keyword - TRY) to desist from calling you (ha) Draino Malfunction in the future.  
  
Also, in response to your statement 'You've got balls' I reply that I take it as a compliment and say: You've finally realized?  
  
Furthermore you asked how I can be strong. Well, I don't know about others, but my reasons are that I have something to lose. There are things that are so precious to me that they induce me to stay strong and fight for them. If I gave up I could lose my best friends, their families, Dumbledore, Hogwarts and so many other things. That is my reason. I think the key to staying strong through hardship, pain and desperation is to find something of your own to fight for. Maybe the reason for your reluctance in fighting the dark is that you think you have nothing to fight for, nothing to lose. But you do. You have Ginny and Hogwarts and most importantly, you have yourself.  
  
Now, to you I say only one more thing. I have something to tell you. Draco -  
  
***  
  
16 January 1996  
  
6:30 pm  
  
Slytherin Dormitory  
  
Whoa, Harry  
  
What the? Where's the rest of the letter? You're a bit confused now, aren't you? Just typical of you leave off on the verge of telling me something important, and keep me hanging.  
  
Draco  
  
***  
  
16 January 1996  
  
Slytherin Dormitory  
  
8.04pm  
  
Hellooo? Where are you? I didn't see you during dinner in the Great Hall. Where have you gone? I'm still wondering what happened to the rest of your letter. Please reply, otherwise I'm gonna have to think you were kidnapped or something.  
  
An irritated Draco.  
  
***  
  
17 January 1996  
  
Great Hall  
  
12.46pm  
  
Okay, Pothead. It's not funny. You weren't at breakfast. You weren't at Potions. Nor Care of Magical Creatures. When I asked Ginny and Granger (in a deceptively jeering tone, of course) as to your whereabouts, it was obvious by the blank looks on their faces that they are as clueless as I am. Did you elope with Weasel or something? He's not here as well, but people have been telling me that he's gone home to help one of his brothers do something. But Ginny's adamant you didn't go with him. So where the hell are you? Huh?  
  
An increasingly impatient Draco.  
  
***  
  
17 January 1996  
  
Greenhouse Three  
  
4.56pm  
  
Far out! Just come out and say BOO already! I'm fed up. And so are Granger and Ginny. They've gone to Dumbledore for help, I think. Where are you, Potter? Are these letters reaching you? Why aren't you replying, dammit?  
  
A very pissed off Draco.  
  
***  
  
17 January 1996  
  
Gryffindor Dormitory.  
  
Very Pissed Off Malfoy,  
  
This is Hermione. Ginny and Ron (who's just returned from the Burrow) and I have been conferring, and we have come to a rather startling conclusion. Hence the reason I've taken up my quill to appeal to you, something that deeply disgusts me, but is unavoidable nevertheless.  
  
Do you have any idea what the hell is going on? I think the reason you received his half-finished letter was because it was pre-affixed with the QuikOwl stamp, and delivered itself after a certain time. You may have missed Harry since yesterday evening at dinner, but we know for a fact that he disappeared around five in the afternoon yesterday. After Charms he said he'd just head down to his dorm and stow away some books. He never returned.  
  
We need to talk. Seriously. I don't like the way things are turning out. You see, Ron and I found an opened letter at his bedside, signed anonymously. It's suggesting of something most alarming. You've got to help us, no matter what your tangled up relationship with him is, Malfoy. Something odd must have happened to Harry yesterday while he was up at his dormitory by himself.  
  
I hate to say it, but the truth is we think Harry was kidnapped.  
  
Hermione  
  
***  
  
Pilgrim Angel's Note -  
  
Oooh.cliffhanger. Very exciting. I am very sorry this took so long but we have had tests and assignments and tests. So it is YAY that this chapter is up. 


	12. Treacherous Means

A/N: Three cheers for the fantastic _Order of the Phoenix_! It was dark, it was sad, it was excruciating with the Big Horrible Meaningless Death (as I've taken to calling it), but it was a damn good read, and as usual JK Rowling had the power to simultaneously entertain me and tug at my heartstrings. I wanted to work _Order of the Phoenix _into this story, as I enjoyed all the new events and information, so from now on Letters To An Arch-Nemesisofficially takes place in everyone's sixth year! Fundamentally, nothing has changed at all, besides the date. So I suppose this isn't an AU after all, but a sixth-year fic. How quaint. 

^^^^^^^^****

**17 January 1997**

**Slytherin Dormitory**

**8:38 pm**

Granger,

What??? You are not. Bloody. Serious. Harry kidnapped? This isn't some cunning plot of yours, is it? Frankly, Granger, the mind boggles at the idea of you writing to and confiding in me. What makes you think I'll be so eager to join your little rescue mission? I'm sure Potter will turn up in no time. After all, what is he but the apple of the wizarding community's eyes, the resident idol and sex magnet of Hogwarts, the Boy Who Lived, the most powerful teenager in the world, and the only one to have escaped the Dark Lord's wrath five times running? Who would want to kidnap a person like that? Pfftt. 

On a serious note, I would appreciate it if you would stop plaguing me with these conspicuous owls. You found Potter's letters, right? Well, I'm sure you've acquainted yourself with all the contents of our existing correspondence. Use the QuikOwl then, for god's sake. I've got enough on my plate at the moment, and far better things to do then worry about Potter skulking off somewhere for a Mega Teenage Sulk. 

Draco Malfoy.  

***

**17 January 1997**

**Gryffindor Common Room**

**9:34 pm**

Malfoy, 

This is not the time to be acting all blasé and unaffected! What part of "Harry is kidnapped, hence may be in grave danger" don't you understand? We know you've got your pride to think of – granted, no Slytherin should be capable of displaying emotion beyond the range of a toothpick – but can't you shed your pretentious shell for once and accept that _you really care_?

Because you do. I've read each and every one of your letters (purely for the purpose of extracting additional clues, of course), and I know exactly how you feel. You're feeling hurt, alienated, mistreated, suicidal (don't we all know that?), deprived, and all the other morbid sentiments people like to indulge in, but beyond that I can also see Harry has brought hope into your life, and you're feeling grateful for it.  

_As I've said before, no one can feel all that – not especially Malfoy – he'll explode!_

Oh, don't mind Ron, who's just scribbled all over this letter. He's not willing to put past disagreements behind him, but I am. I know what you're capable of and whose side you're on – you refusing to take the Dark Mark was what clinched it in my mind. Dumbledore's right. In dangerous times likes these, what with You-Know-Who growing in potency every day, it is crucial that we put our differences aside and stand up together against the common enemy. United we stand, divided we fall like a discarded ton of bricks. I know there's always been some bad blood between you and Harry, especially last year, when your father was put in Azkaban because of what happened at the Ministry of Magic. But you _must_ learn to forget these petty things. They do not count. What counts is that you recognise what you truly want to make out of your life, and put every iota of your energy into that. 

So next time you reply, Draco Malfoy, it will be a decent, polite, positive letter with some much-needed feedback. And don't you dare destroy this letter. I've charmed it to explode and scald anyone in a ten-foot radius should the event occurs. 

Hermione Granger.

P.S. Just so you know, I could have spent my time fixing the audio tape recorder my Muggle aunt sent me for Christmas so that it works in Hogwarts, instead of writing to you. I hope you appreciate the effect. 

***

**17 January 1997**

**Slytherin Dormitory**

**10:57 pm**

Granger,

It's late, it's cold, I'm sleepy, and you have to harass me with moral lectures. Heck, it's worth giving in and doing what you say, just to avoid listening to any more of your sermons. 

I don't know what I want to do with my life. Right now my short-term goals are to get good grades, have fun with Ginny, and preferably avoid a painful and premature death. I suppose I was being stupid in my previous letter, but I really couldn't be stuffed. Of course Potter was kidnapped by someone will ill intentions, that much is clear. I take it you want me to help you get to the bottom of this? Well, *shrugs*, to be contrary, because I love being a nasty surprise, maybe I do care. Just a tiny, itsy little bit though. Purely for self-preservation purposes, since if I got Potter back then he could continue to help me figure out how to avoid getting the Dark Mark. 

So, fill me in with this juicy little whodunit. Tell me, what's this about that anonymous letter you found by Harry's bed? Have you tried putting a Recognition spell on it? If done properly, the name of the writer should appear on the letter. Shush, I thought you were meant to be smart?

Draco Malfoy.

P.S. Just remember, I don't really care about Potter that much. Purely self-preservation purposes, I remind you! 

***

**17 January 1997**

**Gryffindor Common Room **

**11:45 pm**

Malfoy,

In reply to your previous letter, I _am _smart. May I remind you who received seven Outstanding O.W.L.S last year? Also, as you may have figured out, we live in the same time frame and geological position. It's late here, it's also – surprise, surprise – cold, and I am so sleepy and totally unprepared for my Arithmancy quiz tomorrow, thanks to having to write to you. This is getting ridiculous. Who ever heard of writing two letters to the same person in one night? I can't show you the anonymous letter in writing – what if it gets intercepted? Even Ron reluctantly agrees that we should meet somewhere and discuss the situation. Preferably somewhere discreet and in neutral territory. What do you think?

Hermione Granger.

***

**17 January 1997**

**Slytherin Dormitory**

**11:56 pm**

I think you are barking mad.

Draco

***

**18 January 1997**

**Gryffindor Common Room**

**12:03 am**

Malfoy,

Well, not as mad as Ron is at the fact that you so copiously refuse to budge and save Harry. 

_Hermione, persuasion does not work with a cunning Slytherin! We have to descend to their level and use treacherous means!_

Ron! Stop interrupting me and let me finish! You can write your bit later.

_I don't bloody care. Harry is in danger, and Malfoy, you can stick your pride and airs in your–_

And it's a good thing I scribbled out that last word, because believe me, Malfoy, you don't want to know. Anyway, what Ron suggests is that we make a bargain: you meet with us sometime tonight – I mean, this morning - and we'll help you figure out how to escape the Dark Mark. Of course, if you refuse, we can always waltz up to Dumbledore and tell him everything. He'll love it.

_That's the way, Hermione!_

I take it that we have an understanding? 

Hermione Granger.  

***

**18 January 1997**

**Slytherin Dormitory**

**12:26 am**

Fine. You're on. I swear I'm going to bedazzle the both of you with my Cunningly Sly Evil Plans so quickly, you two won't know what hit you. We'll meet at one AM on the dot in that disused Charms classroom in the left wing of the fourth floor, and may he who comes late be cursed with the perpetual ugliness of Millicent Bulstrode for eternity. Be there, or be cursed.

***

**18 January 1997**

**Gryffindor Common Room**

**12:39 am**

Fine!

_Fine!_

^^^^^^^^

A/N: The amount of feedback from you guys is tremendous, and we appreciate it so much.  As usual, chocolate brownies for constructive criticism from you wonderful people. Without your ongoing support, this fic would not be what it is.


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